


Boys & Girls

by jattendrai



Series: Boys & Girls Universe [1]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Human, Divorce, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexuality Crisis, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2020-09-26 00:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jattendrai/pseuds/jattendrai
Summary: Ebbott is a small town, with a population no less of 1,200 people. Everybody felt so distant, so detached, and for the longest time it felt like everybody was trapped, a large mountain to the North being the gate that blocked them off from the horizon. Disconnected stories coming together all on chance, people who sped by one another once as strangers becoming closer. Things were changing in Ebbott. The story was beginning





	1. Well Then, See You Again Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Good note here: I based medical transitioning in this fic moreso off the process of a breast reduction because the whole years-long waiting lists, needing therapy to even get referred, and everything like that is bullshit. So in this universe the medical system isn't transphobic and trans people can easily get the process of surgery rolling for them.
> 
> Secondly: Title and concept based on "Boys & Girls" by Asian Kung-Fu Generation. It's a really good song, and the music video is cute, so give it watch.
> 
> anyway i wrote a big hoo ha about stuff here but thats embarassing so just like enjoy the fic cause i had fun writing this and if i think too much i get ashamed so SEEYA

“ I’m going to do it, I’m going to ask him.” Mettaton took a sip of his cocktail, eyes lowered and chin resting on top of a gloved hand. Grillby’s was winding down for the night, the cold January air leading many to leave before the two am snow plows came along and covered the sidewalks. The performers were thus allowed to sit around, talk, drink, whatever it may to past the time before closing or an encore was called.

Mettaton sat with another performer at one of the roundtables on the floor, sipping midori sours and talking about nothing; one thing came after another, and they eventually fell on the topic of chest surgery.

“ I’m going to do it. I have an appointment with my endocrinologist at the end of the week.”

“ You’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“ Well, this time it’s serious,” Mettaton shifted his tail coat with a disgruntled look, “ I’ve been putting it off, but no more! I promise that, Darling.”

“ You finally saved up enough money?” The entertainer across from him had one elbow on the table, the other in hand. It was rare for the two to talk, being from different sets, but Mettaton caught the other on a good night, drinking alone. Couldn’t remember the name, the bar was always too bustling with noise to hear what the other said. Something close to Shawn he thinks.

He had been saving up for forever: tips from customers and bonuses from the boss; extra jobs and extra shifts; selling old costumes and refurbishing new ones to cut costs; Grillby’s paid the best he could for being a single manager of a large crowd in a tiny parlor parked away in a basement, but even with the checks hitting quadruple digits did it all seem to fly away in expenses and living, and very little left for the savings. There wasn’t much Mettaton could do except either wait longer and string along the cash, or finally milk his insurance for what it was worth.

“ The insurance here covers everything,” The other said, laughing a bit.

“ Nobody wants to see damaged goods on stage, darling.” Mettaton laughs too. He’ll have to retailer all of his outfits to accommodate for the lack of a chest if it all goes through, make sure everything fits tight in the right places, but it’s a small price for the world that will open up for him.

The night comes to a close as Grillby calls it in, the last of the drinks shared and everybody saying their goodbyes for the night. Mettaton was the first to leave, texting his cousin as he slipped on his jacket and braced for the cold.

Ebbott was exceptionally cold in the winter, more so than most other places. The mountain to the far North was at a constant snowy point, and in the winter months the clouds drifted downwards and blanketed the town in almost a foot of snow. He much so fancied the more rainy months, when everything was gloomy and dramatic and the sodium lights turned on at two p.m. --- but there’s something pretty about the snow, the way it glitters, how he kicks it up with his shoes on his walk home.

There was enough of a walk back to have his mind wander as he grazed the streets, thinking about the morning call he put in to schedule an appointment with both his doctors, endocrinologist and PCP respectively. He was less dreading the confrontation, and more… hopeful, knowing how much his endo doc tried to look out for him on stuff like this.

Telling his cousins wasn’t going to be that much of a struggle either; the three were the only ones to keep in touch as their family had drifted apart or died, leaving a circle of communication between the three children of the three children their grandparents had.

He lived in a house sectioned into two apartments with his closer cousin, Napsta, and their cousin Maddie was only a thirty minute drive into the next town over, a bigger city for her bigger dreams. They talked on the phone sometimes, she was pretty chill.

He made it to the small apartment just as he thought about calling up Maddie. Noticing that Napsta’s side still had it’s lights on despite it being almost a quarter to two, he decided to see if they were still up and maybe talk to them now. He was giddy.

He knocked on the front door a few soft times before letting himself in, “ Blooky?”

A figure dressed in an all white chador lay supine on the floor, large headphones over the sheet of white that was covering their entire head. They didn’t move when Mettaton entered.

“ Blooky,” He cooed, crouched and tapping his cousin’s shoulder, causing the figure to slightly shift in his direction. Mettaton gave them a smile.

“ Oh… I didn’t hear you come in,” They made no move to sit up, but instead Mettaton placed his bag down nearby and layed out across from them, propping their head up with their hand. The floor was hard wood, and there was a lone couch in one of the corners, but they always found the ground the best place to be sometimes. They learned it from their parents growing up.

“ I’m glad you’re awake, because I’ve got big news.” It wasn’t even official yet, the doctor’s visit was still a few days away and nothing was absolute --- but this was a big thing for him, and he really wanted to share his excitement with someone! With his cousin! That’s who you tell first, right? Besides, he didn’t really… have anybody else to tell it too. 

Ebbott is a very lonely place, you know.

“ Oh… What is it Mettaton…”

“ I’m… I'm finally going through with it. I’m going to get the surgery.” For the first time did Mettaton feel his throat clench up a bit, waiting for any reaction from his cousin.

Napsta didn’t respond for a moment, fabric covering their face making their expression entirely unreadable. They carefully cupped their hands together on their chest and spoke, “ Oh, that’s really big….. I’m really happy for you….”

Napsta was never proficient at emotional responses, but having grown up with them, Mettaton could tell they really meant it. A few more seconds of silence passed before Napsta spoke up again.

“ Do you….. Have enough for it?”

“ I’m going to see if my insurance covers it,” Mettaton rolled onto his back, “ And if not, I’ll still try to get as much as I can.”

“ I’m….. sure everything will be okay…. Well, maybe not, but…. I believe in you.”

“ Thank you, Blooky.”

“ Are you hungry? I could…. Make something….”

That’s all that had to be said. Napsta made their way to the kitchen and Mettaton began pulling out the old turntable from underneath the couch. It was a family tradition to listen to music after a good meal, so they set up right smack dab in the middle of the room. They ate, they laid down, they put on an old record from the collection of sleeves shoved into a small box, that was it. No awkwardness, no ‘are you sures’. It ended quickly but sweetly, and whether it was that or the music that was making Mettaton’s chest swell in excitement he couldn’t tell.

  
  


This sucks.

Not this, the fact that he was just about twenty feet and a few eternal minutes from meeting his PCP and endo to talk about putting his mammaries on the chopping block, no --- but the  _ waiting _ is killer. The moment he woke up he was overcome with such a disgusting sense of his own body that he had to go in all-wrapped abaya and all, one he hadn’t worn for years. It cloaked him nicely, and the pink Hello Kitty surgical mask he took from the box by the waiting room receptional added a nice flare to the otherwise all-black outfit he had on.

He looked around the room of chairs at everybody else in wait, typical all older people or the few waiting in the pediatrics area cut off from the rest by two glass walls and a door. He had mindlessly begun watching the weather report on the hospital bigscreen when he felt a soft yet determined hand bang on his knee.

A short, stout little boy with messy brown hair covered slightly by a too-small Taqiyah beamed up at Mettaton with wide eyes and an agaped mouth, meaty little hands firmly on both his legs as he stared. The child looked ready to say something, so Mettaton gave him his time, arms crossed over his chest as he waited, but an older voice cut him off, “ Asriel! Be nice!”

The woman across from Mettaton must’ve been the child’s mother, also stout and with her head wrapped in a yellow scarf. She was holding  _ another  _ child in her arms, who looked rather ill, as she reached a hand out to grab at him.

“ I like your hair, mister!” The child finally exclaimed, bouncing.

Mettaton laughed, “ Oh, thank you, darling.”

Asriel, assumingly, gives him a big grin before releasing his baby death grip on his knees and running back over to his mother. The interaction calmed Mettaton’s nerves a bit, and he smiled behind the mask when he waved at the mother.

The child in her arms doesn’t look to be doing so hot, but neither does she.

A nurse called out a name, and Mettaton stood up to follow her into the back. There, he was brought to a strange alcove of different open-air rooms cut off by what looked like shower curtains, and was gestured to enter into one and undress.

“ Even the socks?”

“ Yes, but keep your bottoms on.”

Cool, full-frontal nudity in front of his old man endo. Not the first time and certainly not weird, but he begins to wonder if making a joke about seeing his chest for the last time at to his doctor would be an okay way to explain his wants top surgery.

He never spoke in detail about what he was planning when making the appointment, just a need to see both his PCP and Endocrinologist. Thankfully, the hospital in Ebbott --- Capital Clinic --- was built like an amalgamation of all medical sections, so his internal medicine doctor was just an elevator and a walk away from his Endocrinologist. The nurse led him into a checkup room and ran through the routine while Mettaton rehearsed the possible interaction in his head.

“ W.D. will be in shortly,” the nurse patted his arm gently before leaving. Now it was the waiting game again, the forever stretch between the nurse leaves and the doctors enter. As a kid he had just assumed the wait felt eternal because his little kid brain couldn’t process time, but being almost thirty years now and feeling like breaking in a nap while he waits obviously thwarted that idea.

He was actually almost restfully asleep on that crinkly-ass paper they lay on the checkup bed before he heard a soft knock at the door.

His doctor was a frightening fellow to look at, every time he enters the room horror music feels like it should be playing; a 5'4" boney white man with a sunken face and a seemingly perpetual smile, the ghastly appearance of his almost bone-pale skin was not at all helped by his staunch hunch and bright fluorescent hospital lights. Not only that, but he spoke in such an incomprehensible accent, punctuated by his intense use of his hands. 

“ Why hello there. It has been a long time since we last met, hasn’t it?” Gaster practically glided into the room with a clipboard in hand, hunch so severe you could also see his backside from over his head. His white medical coat was nothing compared to the baggy black outfit he wore that almost made his body look like one homogenous blob.

Gaster took a seat at the low-level cushion chair, “ Tell me what brought you here today. I heard you have also scheduled an appointment with your ECN. Is there a problem you’ve been having?”

Mettaton almost couldn’t focus on what he was saying with how chaotic the man’s hands were swinging around as he talked. Eventually he managed to pry his eyes off of the them and meet his doctor’s stare.

“ Uh, no. I came here to ask about a possible surgery.”

He explained the whole situation to Gaster, quite eloquently too; how he’s been wanting to do this for years, how he thinks it’ll better his image while also not diving into too deep into theories of dysphoria or trans identity --- W.D was cool, but he was also an ancient cis white man who talked to Mettaton like he was some little kid still, and saying too much might land him in a therapy room he did  _ not  _ want to be in.

Gaster listened, hand touching his chin with a curious look as Mettaton began to ramble on about it all. He eventually waved his hand gently, causing Mettaton to stop.

“ So, you’ve decided it’s finally time to get a reduction --”

“ -- top surgery. Not a reduction. I want all of it gone.”

Mettaton could see the gears in his dusted old man brain turning, finger tapping his lip.

“ And how may I help you with this?”

Green light! Green light!, “ I need you to put a referral for a surgeon for me.”

“ For ‘top surgery’.” Gears turning.

“ Yes, top surgery.”

“ Alright, I'll see what I can do.”

Well that went…. Fast. Mettaton was sort of, expecting more to it. Begging, mostly, but the whole conversation only took around five to eight minutes, and soon the old man was writing down a consultation note and handing it off to Mettaton. His Endocrinologist would be in shortly, and soon Gaster glided out of the door, and he was left alone once again.

Mettaton let out the most excited laugh, like oh my god! It was happening! It was just a possible consultation meeting but it didn’t matter, the ball was rolling, the stagnant little ball of rolled up twine in his stomach of yarn of self hatred and body image issues was unrolling and soon it would be nothing but a tiny little string instead of a baseball-sized emotion lodged within him. He let out another excited yell.

Throughout his endo checkup he couldn’t stop thinking about it, not even when the doctor shoved that cold as hell stethoscope up against his back and felt down the ridges of his spine. He was told the surgeon might not call for a week or two, but just the fact that they were going to call --- he almost couldn’t bear the wait.

“ So, I heard you’re going through with top surgery.”

“ If my insurance covers it.”

“ I’m sure they will,” his endo was a pretty woman named Leo who would sometimes come and see his shows at Grillby’s. She had thick, curly golden hair and a pretty round face, and sometimes Mettaton wished she wasn’t only ever seeing him when he was half undressed. It makes it very awkward for him to attempt to ask her out, especially in green medical garb lathered up with ultrasound gel, “ Does this mean you’ll be starting hormones?”

“ Not now. I like to think i’m quite handsome as I am,” he gave a flashy smile, “ Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dr. Leo laughed, “ As long as you feel good about yourself, that’s all that matters.”

The checkup was finished up quickly, and Mettaton had his clothes finally returned to him. He shoved the consultation slip into his jacket pocket and headed back down to the receptionist’s room, passing a familiar figure down the hall of checkup rooms, yellow scarf tails shaking underneath her chin as she looked close to tears talking to a nurse.

" -- I had to quit my job for this, and he can not make even give minutes to see his own child? They're sick!"

" Ma'am, I understand, but Mr. Dreemurr is very busy --"

He filled out the insurance papers while straining to listen in, his face scrunching into a sad look. The child she held in her arms in the waiting room did not look good at all, very obvious sweat running down their face with their eyes clenched shut and their fists gripping the woman’s dress tightly. She must be the wife of one of the doctors.

Outside of the hospital was a warmer day, the snow in the parking lot melting into puddles while the sun shone brightly between clouds. He decided to wait outside with a cigarette for a bit, hoping to possibly run into the woman leaving. Though he didn’t really know why, it was just… something about how alone she was, with all of those kids. Nearly four were in tow with her, two of them having been sitting next to her in the seats alongside her, and yet she sat with them all ( no babysitter?), with nobody else ( Doctor husband busy? No friends?)

She appeared through the mechanical glass doors an odd ten minutes later, shuffling to get all of her children’s jackets on while still holding the sick child in her arms.

She was particularly struggling to get the tiny one, Asriel, into his oversized coat when he approached the family, “ Oh, excuse me, darling.”

The mother looked up at him. She looked  _ exhausted _ .

“ Do you need some help?”

“ Oh god yes, if you could help my Azzy get his coat on,” She gently pushed the little boy into his direction. Mettaton bent down and helped ‘Azzy’ get his coat on, showing him how to zip it up himself and fluffing up the fur hood. The child giggled and grabbed his mitts from his pockets with his meaty fists.

“ Did you walk here?” He asked, one tiny fist being helped into the glove after the other.

“ Yes,” She was thrashing around what looked like the oldest child to get their hoodie on, “ Why?”

“ I did too, is all. I could help you home if you’d like.”

“ Oh, I couldn’t ask that of a stranger --”

“ I could call you a taxi then, no charge. You go to the Mosque downtown, don’t you?”

“Why yes, I do in fact. Do you live n---” the child in her grip finally managed to pop their head out their sweater and just screamed in achievement.

Mettaton held in a laugh, “ I’d be happy to help you, darling.”

“ You know? A ride would be lovely, thank you.”

He didn’t ask about the child, or the conversation with the nurse. Instead, Mettaton asked her name ( it was Toriel, Toriel Dreemurr) and her kids ( Frisk, the baby in the sweater; Asriel, the stout one; Kris, the older one with the long hair; and Chara, the one in her arms), and gave her the money for the taxi ride when the designated car approached. Helping wrangle all the kids inside, he left them with a wave as they sped away.

He tried to hide his smile on the way home, unable to keep his hand from drifting to his phone to just make sure they didn’t happen to call early.

Things were changing for Mettaton.

Ebbott was beginning to feel a little less lonely.


	2. Rainbow Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter laying the groundwork for the other stories weaving in! Chapter titled named after "Rainbow Flag" by Asian Kung-Fu Generation, off their Hometown album. Will be back soon with the good bits?

“ Hey mom, what’s wrong with Chara?” Kris tugged at her sleeve. The taxi had exited out off the main road travelled through downtown, and was barreling the family along a long stretch of lonely looking houses down a lonely little road.

“ We don’t know yet, dear.” Was all she could say. The doctor couldn’t pinpoint a cause, but they took a blood test and told her they’d get back to her with the result within a few days. Kris gave a sad quirk of the lip and slid down further into their seat.

It just started one day: while Toriel was busy at work, Kris was to watch the kids. They said all Chara did was play around in the garden with Asriel, and he was fine, but suddenly the next day Chara was stiff and sweating and screamed of a migraine that refused to let them sleep. They came carried inside by Asriel, crying and begging for it to stop, and in a panic Kris called for their mother to come home because “Chara is screaming and can't move”. 

Leaving work had left her without a job too. They told her if she left on-shift her position would be terminated --- so she took off her uniform and ran out the door.

And now she was jobless, with an undiagnosed sick child, three more to look after, and a husband so neglectful of the family that he wouldn’t even take a moment to see his own child at his own work. She struggled not to cry in the taxi, in front of her kids, in front of herself.

The only good thing that happened to her at all today was that person -- Mettaton, he gave her his name and number if she would need any help -- getting her a taxi. They apparently went to the same Mosque, though the men and women were sectioned off to different rooms, so how he could know and remember her from such a place puzzled her. But there was no reason to question him, a neighbor is a neighbor, and she was thankful for the free ride.

Toriel motioned for the taxi driver to stop at a rather sad looking two-story house near the end of the road, “ This is our stop.” She handed the driver the money and slowly shuffled her children out, scooping Chara up in her arms and shutting the door with her foot. 

It was getting to a breaking point.

Now was obviously not time to tell her children, not when one of them looked near death, but secretly she had been… considering something, about her and her husband, Asgore. The long nights at the hospitals, the constant sacrifices she made on her end, the near endless silence due to his job. She no longer had a job because he wouldn’t pick up his phone or answer her pagers, and didn’t even come to see his own when they were mysterious sick. She was getting… she was getting exhausted with him, among other things --- but there was a breaking point to it all. It was too stressful to think clearly, and she was just ready to get Chara into bed and her children taken care of.

They have to talk eventually.

  
  


" Sweet, I got another full combo!!" 

Undyne did a strange squat and pumped her fist in the air, the VR headset barely holding onto her forehead. The flatscreen flashed colorful fireworks before the both of them in the dimly lit back room of the gaming lounge, Alphys just behind her friend in a wooden chair, coffee in hand. Her feet couldn't touch the ground.

" You sure you don't wanna try?" Undyne waved one of the VR sticks at her. She sounded almost out of breath after the last song, sweat forming against her face as she had been going at it for almost an hour nonstop. 

" I-I'm good! You're w-way better at this game than I am, anyway." Alphys jiggled her legs that sort of childish-antsy sort of way, but Undyne just laughed and replaced the VR set onto her face.

" As long as you're having fun back there. Hey, don't they got the mew mew kissy cutie theme on this thing?"

It was a nice night; Saturdays were always their off days, Alphys working a surgeon job that called on her at intense shifts and Undyne working in a different wing as a physiotherapist, scheduled erratically to help squeeze into her patient’s lives -- but they made time for each other, to just hang out: they played ridiculous VR games in a cheap gaming lounge, read library-borrowed manga on the floors of their bedrooms like they were highschoolers, they tried to go out to eat together as often as possible. Jobs got in the way, as adult life felt like it only had so much time in the day compared to the infinitely expansive eternity of childhood, but they were making it work. Even if it was just Alphys watching Undyne go ham on some rhythm games.

But that was the thing, Undyne thought about that last bit as she shuffled around playlists in the game; she’s been recently… dwelling on that. Being watched. Alphys was always a fan of watching her in her groove, be it in shitty movement-based rhythm games or during the odd times Undyne found herself playing basketball with patients or friends --- Alphys really enjoyed watching her and cheer her on, and it wasn’t until recently that the act of being watched has put something in her stomach. Not a knot, but a sort of fire.

She felt the need to… impress? Not for validation, there wasn’t a single moment where she believed that Alphys didn’t really love her, but now there’s this urge in her gut to impress her friend, to garner extra validation and compliments, to see her light up. Every time she was able to make Alphys laugh that feeling lurched up into her throat, like everything about Alphys suddenly made her sick.

She just had to swallow it down. It’s nothing. That’s just what caring about your friend feels like, yeah?

“ Hey, I think I'm getting sick of this game. Let’s go get a drink,” Undyne sets the headset down on the table, the shake in her hand slightly visible.

Yeah, she’ll keep telling herself that.


	3. Mustang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel continues to haul the children around like how Loons carry their babies on their backs, and Mettaton eats a Kathy Kaye's Popcorn Ball he found in one of his random kitchen drawers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a more serious one! Alphys randomly disappears and Kris acts like a fool.  
I named this chapter after the song ''Mustang'' by Asian Kung-Fu Generation, which is the song I listened to while imagining up this chapter, especially the scene with Asgore.

Mettaton stood in his kitchen, stress-eating a halloween popcorn ball he found in one of his cabinets. The receptionist had told him that the call from the surgeon’s office would only take a day or two to come, and in return he told them that mornings were the worst time to call as he works a midnight shift, and on god is nobody working midnight shifts going to be awake for a call at eight a.m.

So they called him at seven, just to be funny.

The call was brief, it was exhilarating and exciting because now Mettaton was just barely in reach of the surgery date and soon he would be without breasts and could walk around shirtless and stop wearing tight sports bras --- and as his mind sped through the endless possibilities of post-op life, the sweet lady on the other end of the phone line gave him a consultation date, which was a whopping two whole months away in March. 

Now he was standing in his hardwood kitchen, a single roller in his hair and still in his pajamas, destroying his teeth on an almost-stale sphere of overly caramelized popcorn and gripping the door frame for dear life, spacing out.

Two months.

Every time he tried to calm himself and tell him it was just two months, the itching feeling came back; he waited  _ years  _ for this so he could well wait two months --- but the moment he put down the phone he became well aware of his own body.

Looking at himself in the mirror became a labored task of dissection of how he stood, the shape and size of his chest and how much presence it had behind his shirt, of if this was  _ his  _ body, or just something he was piloting around until his state-of-the-art Real Body, the Mettaton Body, would arrive in the mail --- he had to pull himself out of this dysphoria-fueled dissection before he spiralled, but even then his pajamas felt  _ wrong  _ and  _ gross _ and forced him to dig out a disgusting robe to wrap around himself. Any sort of compression or tightness around his body is what he needed, even if the robe was not that soft and smelled like a dusty basement.

It’s fine, everything will ease over the days and he’ll just entertain himself through those two months. He’s managed to suppress his dysphoria from the front of his brain before. He’s got this.

This is suffocating. He needs a smoke.

Standing out on his porch in a robe and a curler brought fond memories of his mother, who would do the same while chain smoking Camel 100s and mumbling to herself in Korean about the neighbors. He picked up more attributes from her than anybody else in the family, down to her meticulous care for her looks and bad habit for sucking down tobacco like candy.

He laughed at this memory as he lit his up, door ajar and peering at the crisp white snow. The sun had just begun to rise down the street, a rare sight considering; the pretty bright oranges and pinks that mixed into the sky as stars dropped from existence, the way it glossed over the snow and glistened flecks of color, it all mixed together with the tobacco and cold air to help calm his nerves, albeit momentarily.

“ Never seen you out this early.”

Undyne stood at the edge of his lawn, abruptly cutting off his moment of peace. Her oversized and ugly grey winter coat made her head look almost comically small, a large duffle bag shouldered onto her side. The TredSafe shoes were a dead giveaway that she was heading to work.

“ I need my beauty sleep, is why. Nobody can be pretty on less than eight hours of sleep, dear.” He said, pulling a piece of hair behind his ear. Undyne rubbed at the day-old eyeshadow on her bottom lid. “ Off to work?”

“ Yeah,” she cracks her neck with a swift jerk of her head, “ Heard you’re getting surgery.”

“ Do doctors gossip that much? Didn’t think the talk could reach your wing.”

“ Gaster knew we were neighbors.”

“ It’s in the database, isn’t it,” Mettaton laughed, “ But it’s still in the air. I have a consultation in two months.”

“ Good for you. Hope everything works out.” She says flatly.

“ Thank you dear.”

Undyne didn’t even wave as she began down the street to the bus stop. It was rare for the two to cross paths, let alone talk, but stiff conversation wasn’t anything new to Mettaton. He takes a last drag from what was left of his cigarette before putting it out and heading inside. 

There was still a bit of that popcorn ball left to anxious chew on.

  
  


The sigh of relief that escaped Toriel’s lungs upon the doctor pulling up the blood results was audible enough to shake the window panels.

They had called her in as early as the ER opened, laying their child out on the table and pulling up their shorts to reveal where the tick possible bit into them; it was Lymes Disease, thank god, and the severe symptoms was just that of catching it late with zero tick attachment. It was odd that Chara never formed a typical bullseye anywhere on their body, though it wasn’t rare. The neurotoxin in the bite had spread through her child’s system and causing the loss of muscle strength, but was thankfully reversible with a three-stage medicine treatment.

“ The treatment will be around a three-month process,” Leo said, pulling out the papers for each medicine: one was a white liquid, one a pink, and one a hard chalk pill, “ We can provide crutches, but it’s not severe enough for a medical wheelchair. If your child can’t begin walking again after the first month, schedule an appointment with us and we’ll do further testing.”

The medicine bottles were pushed into her purse and they were shuffled back out into the waiting area in no time, Chara attempting to learn how to walk on their new crutches.

Kris was struggling to ensnare Asriel into their arms, the little kid finding joy in running up on everybody in the room in an attempt to talk to them. 

“ What’s with the crutches?”

“ I got limes,” Chara said with a pout.

“ Limes?”

“ Lymes,” Toriel picked up Frisk from where they were on the ground putting together a Sesame Street puzzle, “ Chara got bit by a tick and needs to take medicine now. But everything is okay, and that’s all that matters at this moment.”

She bent down and hugged her child, Chara looking pissed and exhausted from being sick and awoken at eight a.m. on a Sunday. But they weren’t dying, so that eased one layer off of Toriel’s cake of anxieties.

Now it’s time to deal with the Asgore layer.

Once again he was unavailable for even a visit with his kids despite how early in the morning it was, with very few patients coming in. Toriel knew he was an appointment-only head who only took on severe ER situations, so for all she knows he could be sitting around stacks of paper and hiding like the spineless little man he is. Maybe he knew she was angry at him; it would be ridiculous if he couldn’t tell, from how she hasn’t stayed up to meet him after work anymore.

When he called, she’d give it directly to the kids. When he was late, she was a rock in her sleep and wouldn’t get up. When he wasn’t there in the morning, she didn’t check in to see if he came home.

She wanted him to feel a fraction of the loneliness she felt constantly.

But it was getting to a breaking point.

Shuffling her children back to the front desk, Toriel asked for directions to the Physiotherapy wing. An elevator ride and a set of stairs ( to which Chara was afraid of attempting with crutches just yet, and was instead carried down while Kris did strange tricks with the crutches down the steps themself) later, and she was herding her kids into yet another waiting room as she marched to the front desk herself.

She felt bad, stretching truth into a lie, but she was also tired of being ignored, “ Does an Undyne work in this department? It’s a family emergency.”

Within a few minutes Undyne appeared through the doors, surprised by the sight of Toriel. She pushed them back a bit so as to be out of earshot of her children, huddled into a small corner where some medical equipment and a weight scale was stashed.

“ Hey, long time no see,” Undyne was shocked, “ What’s going on?”

“ I know this is sudden, and you haven’t been their babysitter in some years, but I need you to look after the children tonight.”

She looked worried, “ Is something going on?”

“ I need to talk to Asgore. Alone.”

Undyne didn’t press for any information; she’s been there since highschool, she knew the kids pretty well, watched Asriel grow up while more and more adopted kids came tumbling along in the family --- and she could see the fear in Toriel’s eyes, the way her hands had a slight tremble to them. She hastily scribbled her new phone number and address down for Undyne to come pick them up after work, all while Toriel profusely thanked her for this.

“ It’ll only be for one night, I just need the kids out of the house and I have nobody else to go to, and I don’t want to worry them so I thought to come to you because they really liked you and… please don’t tell Asgore.”

“ Not a word,” Undyne moved her fingers over her mouth, “ Promise ‘ya.”

  
  


“ Hey Chara, give me your crutches.”

Chara moved their head to look at Kris behind them. They were slumped over the chairs with a singular hand stretched out.

“ Why?”

“ I wanna do something.”

Reluctantly, they handed over each crutch to Kris, who promptly got up and began doing laps around the chairs, using both crutches as sort of pole vaults as they picked up both their legs and swung forward. It was like watching a monkey swing from vines, except instead it was Kris using crutches incorrectly to act ridiculous in public.

Frisk thought it was funny though, laughing as they watched Kris continuously do lap after lap in this fashion and mildly inconveniencing the single other person that was in the waiting room.

“ Come on, not even a smile?”

Chara just crossed their arms.

“ What’s mom doing?” Asriel barged into the conversation. His head barely sat above Kris’ waist like he was some tiny, bao-faced oompa loompa.

“ I dunno,” Kris went back to doing monkey laps on Chara’s crutches. At the sound of the hard hospital door turning did Kris hit mach four on the crutches to get back to Chara before getting caught, doing a weird jump-over the chairs that ended with them nearly slamming their tailbone on the wooden armrests and sliding out of the chair in agony.

Toriel sped over to their child, now laying dramatically on the floor, “ Kris, what on Earth are you doing?”

“ Relaxin’,” Their tailbone really fucking hurt.

“ Well, get up,” She grabbed Kris’ arm and pulled them up from the floor, “ You’re all going to Undyne’s for the night, so we need to get home and pack.”

“ Undyne’s? Why? You and dad going on a daaate?”

“ Yes.”

“ Then can I go to Catti’s?”

“ No, you need to stay with your siblings.”

“ Damn, alright.”

“ Who’s Undyne?” Frisk pushed themselves between Kris and Toriel.

“ Our old babysitter,” Kris put their hand way up high, “ She’s like six-five and kills at guitar hero. She also only has one eye.”

“ Oooooh.” Frisk clapped their hands frantically in excitement.

“ C’mon, let’s get home.” She grabbed her kids and sped out of the hospital as fast as she could. 

  
  
  


After a few meticulous hours attempting to apply makeup to his face without wanting to rip his skin from his skeletal system, and a good forty minutes sitting with nothing but a bath towel around him on his bed while staring up at the ceiling, the day was salvaged from the pits of self-hatred for Mettaton with a relaxed outing with his cousin to the grocery store.

Yes, this was relaxing. And rare. Napsta rarely left the house, but sometimes Mettaton managed to get them out in public with him, even if it was just to push a shopping cart around and debate whether to buy two-percent or skim milk. Sometimes Napsta would sit in the shopping cart with the produce, gingerly cradling the cantaloupe to make sure it wasn’t bashed up amongst the other goods.

It was fresh air for the both of them, a nice outing to cleanse their palate of the weekly home-work-home lifestyles ( or work-at-home lifestyle for Napsta). They’d even sometimes stop at a little music store a few blocks down together if Napsta was still feeling up for it.

On the walk home they’d take turns wheeling the small cart they’d bring to transport the goods, since neither of them drove, and sometimes Napsta would request to hold their cousin’s hand when they were especially drained. It helped ease Mettaton too, this time, with how much recent events seemed to be getting to them.

“ I think we should go see a movie.” Mettaton suggest as they walked up their street.

“ Oh….. what would you wanna see?”

“ I don’t know, maybe a romcom?”

The two headed into Mettaton’s apartment to look up movie times online. Meanwhile, in just a house a ways down, Undyne was getting four rambunctious kids settled into her house for the night.

“ Alright, twerps, remember the old rules?” She pointed both her fingers up.

“ I do,” Kris said, “ ‘No eating without asking, no leaving the house without asking, and no TV without asking.’”

“ And are we clear on these rules?”

Asriel itched his scalp under his taqiyah while Chara nodded pathetically from the couch. Frisk just rocked in Kris’ lap, who gave a snap-and-finger-guns approval.

“ Alright then,” Undyne shuffled over her pathetic shag rug and to where her TV sat, a low-sitting cabinet that you had to kneel to open holding it up. She pulled open the two small doors and dug out what looked like some old, beaten-up wiimotes, “ Who wants their ass kicked in wii sports?!”

“ I do!” Frisk yelled.

The day fell to night across Ebbott, and while the families headed out to watch movies or stayed home for game night, a woman sat at her kitchen table, headscarf undone to sit around her shoulders, a cup of coffee in her hands. Her fingers tapped the mug impatiently as she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Toriel could feel it, something rising in the pit of her stomach and threatening to crawl out her throat. Waves of anxiety-induced nausea threatened to knock her down, to back her out of it and clean up the scene before it was too late.

She had the papers. She had her stuff. The kids were out of the house, and all that was left was for him to come home.

She left an unassuming message for him telling Asgore she’d be waiting for him when he gets home, hoping it would hasten him to come home quicker. It was pitch black out when she finally heard the front door open.

“ I’m in the kitchen.” She called, with no inflection.

She really could back out of it now. Stuff like this takes weeks, months or even years, and she could very easily just act like nothing was wrong, to go to bed and have everything stay the same. The children would grow up fine, she could find another job, she’s lived with years of the one-ended silence, she would just have to wait for them all to grow up and leave the nest ---

But no, she wasn’t. It’s an itch she needs to scratch. She needs to leave the nest too, the one that’s been abandoned and rotting under her feet as she tried to balance her eggs to keep them from falling, pulling the sticks back in place to keep the cracks from forming, to ignore the long fall downwards.

He came into the kitchen with that… goofy ass look on his face that he always had. She used to think it was charming, how he looked constantly like a lost puppy, but now it just made her stomach hurt.

“ You st-”

“-- We need to talk.”

She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear any of the pet names, the surprised tone in how she stayed up to wait for him. Her face was obviously turned something painful, the way Asgore was caught off guard by her words. Without saying anything else, he carefully took the seat across from her. He smelled like the hospital.

“ What is it, deary?”

She wanted to vomit. Feeling her muscles tense in her arms, her jaw clench up, the demon crawling up her throat wanting to rock his man off his feet like a hurricane and wreck everything.

“ I want a divorce.”

A beat. A moment of silence.

Asgore’s eyes just widened, his mouth opening before shutting again. It felt like the world was going to explode if somebody didn’t say something soon.

“ Toriel --”

“ I already got the petition,” she slid the paper across the table a bit harshly, “ I’m not backing out.”

“ Can’t we talk about this?” He sounded upset.

“ Asgore, there is nothing to talk about!” Toriel shot up, “ You’re barely ever home anymore, and you can’t even make time for your  _ four  _ kids! We had split the bed up because of your abhorrent work hours to keep you from waking me up! When was the last time we even went on a date together? Can you remember? Or has this been the first time we’ve ever been alone together since our wedding night.”

She hastily placed her empty cup into the kitchen sick and began collecting her papers. Asgore tried to coax her, “ What good will any of this do?”

“ It frees me from your name is what it does,” she bites, “ I’m trapped here, Asgore. What’s the point in this marriage if you’re not even home most of the time? And when you are, you’re asleep!”

“ Toriel--”

“ Besides, I filed for a no-fault divorce,” She grabbed the edge of one of the chairs, looking Asgore dead in the eye with determination, “ Whether you sign it or not doesn’t matter. If you don’t answer, I get the kids and the house. So you better make the right choice.”

For the first time in forever, Toriel felt something close to control. She stood there, towering over Asgore, eyes deadlocked on him. He wouldn’t move, wouldn’t speak; she was the one with the power in this moment, in this dim-lit kitchen. No more dodging pages or phone calls, of hectic hours to keep them apart. Toriel had backed him into a corner he finally couldn’t scram from.

“You have thirty days to file your petition. Goodnight, Asgore.”

She jumped for the door before he could say anything else.

The night in Ebbott was silent. Calm.

Families gathered for games, for dinner, for bedtime.

And like the turning of snow into water, a family turned to strangers.

She couldn’t help it as she walked, and began to sob. The snow isolated her crying in the dead streets as she sped into town. She tried to rub them away, but they kept coming; a wave of emotions held back for years, all coming out at once.

She ran across the bridge, the lights guardians for her as she only cried harder. The sky cried snow down onto her shoulders, the cars passing her in a swirl of dissociation as her feet took her far away.

She had nowhere to go. Nowhere to stay.

A wet piece of paper slipped in her pocket of snow guided her down the otherwise foreign streets until she managed upon her destination, beautiful golden lights glimmering out of the two large windows that framed each side of the door. She almost slipped getting up the steps before pounding on the door, the tears blurring her vision and making it harder and harder to decipher shapes as they streamed her heated cheeks.

Toriel felt like she was going to die on these emotions, choked and sobbing and her head rushing blood through her ears. A figure she couldn’t recognize appeared before her in a blur as the door opened up, and she nearly fell backwards as she tried to get away upon realizing her mistake.

Hands caught her as she nearly met head-first with the concrete, a familiar voice ringing in her ears, “ Are you okay, darling!? What’s happening?!”

More voices ring in her ears as she cries harder, the sound of footsteps treading through the snow and surrounding her --- but she couldn’t care, her head was swimming at the realizations of everything and the weight of it all, the future now a flickering light in absolute darkness and the past shattering underneath her like cracked ice breaking under pressure. The sound of her children’s voice brought her back from the brink of dissociation as two sets of hands attempted to pull her back up from the ground.

“ Mrs. Dreemurr!” Undyne’s voice was the loudest in her ear, “ Hey, c’mon, help me --”

Suddenly she found herself sitting somewhere, the stars clear in her eyes as the tears slowed. Her head felt like lighter than a cloud as she stared up at them and caught her breath. Finally able to focus, she could feel the gentle hands on her shoulders, the eyes of children watching her from the windows, a tall figure standing in a bathrobe off her to side.

It was the person from the hospital. In her overwhelming state she had confused the address for the house next door, oh god, she was embarrassed, but her head was still swimming. Undyne’s voice was bringing her back down.

“ Hey, can you hear me --”

“ I-I’m,” she held in a disgusting sob with one hand against her mouth, “ I’m sorry about that, I mistook the addresses---”

“ Hey, you alright?” Undyne was holding both of Toriel’s shoulders, keeping her upright.

“ I’m…. I'm,” She choked, “ I need to --”

“ C’mon, let’s go inside.” Undyne pulled her up and helped her into the house, Mettaton following in after.

They put the children to sleep upstairs, gathering them all in the guest room and making sure that they were all relaxed. Seeing your mother cry was probably not a sight that bodes well when you’re trying to sleep, but Undyne attempted to reassure them as best as she could that their mother was fine.

And she was, now that she was inside and seated on a soft couch, Mettaton taking a seat across from her in an ugly mint-green loveseat and swirling the tea Undyne had prepared in its cup. Toriel just looked down at hers, tired and trying to still catch her breath. Undyne slipped into the living room no soon afterwards.

“ So you gave him the petition?” Undyne questioned as she took a seat next to Toriel. The other woman nodded solemnly.

“ I made it a no fault petition, so whether he answers or not doesn’t matter. It’s still going to happen.”

“ Will you be alright, darling?”

She raised her gaze to Mettaton, who looked genuine in his question.  _ Will  _ she be alright? She was unemployed, possibly homeless, divorced with four kids to look after. She barely knew anybody in this town besides Undyne and the stranger asking the question. Was she even qualified for any other job? What was going to happen to her stuff? How are the kids going to handle this? Her head began to swim again.

“ I don’t know, I just --- I just need a bit. To get everything together.”

“ You can stay here, y’know,” Undyne placed a hand on her shoulder, “ The door is always open.”

“ Are you sure?”

“ Absolutely! Your kids are a riot, just tonight Kris got a ping-pong ball stuck in my kitchen light fixture and the whole house went wild about it!”

Toriel mustered up her best laugh at that; she was obviously being genuinely about it.

“ That would be lovely, thank you, dear.”

A silence.

“ Y’know --”

“ Mettaton,” Undyne gave him a look. He blew a raspberry at her.

“ I was just going to say, if you need something to take your mind off, me and my cousin were just planning on taking a night out tomorrow. I’d be more than happy to bring you along.”

“ Really?” Toriel perked up at this, “ What does a ‘night out’ entail?”

“ Why, dinner and a show! My place of work is having a free music night tomorrow. Nothing takes a load off like a good time, now doesn’t it?”

She took a moment to think about this. A dinner and a show --- was she too old for that sort of thing? Has she even gone to that sort of thing? All of this twists into a reminder of the years that had been taken off of her from marriage and kids, the time she’s let fall wayside and the few moments she’s really had to herself; it was always the kids or her job, she couldn’t even remember the last time she went to see a movie.

“ I think…. I think that would be quite lovely.”

“ Then it’s official!” Mettaton dramatically flung his legs and arms into the air as he sunk into the loveseat, “ Undyne, darling, you should come too. It’ll be a fine time to catch up together!”

“ I’m guessing you two are friends?”

“ Ha! Nah, just neighbors --”

“ We went to the same school, didn’t we? Don’t you remember that one year in science class when you accidentally inhaled crushed alka seltzer during a--”

“ Don’t tell that story in front of people!” She threw a pillow directly at his face while Toriel giggled. The night didn’t feel so lonely anymore.


	4. Wake Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton, Undyne, and Toriel all head out for a simple, fun night at The Underground, Mettaton's workplace and entertainment bar. Meanwhile, Kris tries to be an okay big sibling to three little shits, a stranger friend comes into the equation, and a constant mention of Midori Sours are peppered throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a two-parter, with the second part of the night ramping up a bit while most of this is exposition ah  
anyway, fun night! We get introduced to new characters, and I finally get to write about one of my most anticipated characters for this fic !! Also eventually we'll come back to MTT's tits getting chopped off. Eventually.
> 
> Also a part of me doesn't do too much proofreading for this because i'm here for a good time, not a boring time, so I just slap my keyboard like a monkey and hope I caught all the typos. Thank you for liking my fic so far

Kris stood at the steps for a moment, contemplating the news while scratching their ass covertly. It only took a good point-five second lag for their brain to catch up to the information before blurting out, “ OK, is there a specific way you want me to react?”

Undyne was downstairs, helping Toriel wrap a rather intricate headscarf style around her face. Earlier in the morning, they had gone shopping to help find Toriel something to wear; all of her clothes were very simple and often black or white, which would’ve worked perfectly fine for the night, but she insisted on finding something a bit more colorful to wear. They had found her a nice purple dress, and a simple yellow scarf with tassels hanging off the trim. Undyne helped her accessorize with the smallest amount of makeup, to which Toriel laughed in the mirror, “ Goodness, I look like my own grandmother with this on.”

Throughout the day she had avoided thinking about the divorce. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the confrontation, but she needed at least one day to relax before fretting the details ( besides, it was thirty days before Asgore had to answer the court order, so she really didn’t need to take more skin off her neck than needed. But she worries a lot.)

Not to mention, she didn’t want to bring it up to her youngest yet. That would need extra sensitive care, especially for Asriel, who dearly loves his father.

Kris, on the other hand…. Kris was easy. Very easy.

“ You’re not mad?” Toriel asked as Undyne attempted to tuck a bit of scarf into the wrap. Kris shrugged.

“ Not really.”

“ Are you being honest with me?”

“ Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“ Okay, good….” She spoke, a bit confused. Kris was always very blunt, and sometimes it left the conversation a bit…. Off. She honestly didn’t know what she was expecting; Kris was never very close to Asgore, as she adopted them right before he began to be more closed off, so Kris was very much so more a momma’s child. Was Asgore a stranger to Kris? Did they even see Asgore as their father? The thoughts mixed poorly in her stomach.

But Kris just shrugged again and bounded down the stairs, direct sights on the carton of orange juice Undyne bought them earlier this morning. The conversation seemed to have no effect on them --- in one ear, out the other, as they say.

“ So where you guys off to?”

“ Just a dinner and a show. I’ll be back home in time to tuck Asriel in,” Toriel loosened the chokehold of a wrap around her neck, while Undyne fiddled with the back of her dress, “ I’ll leave you some money for dinner, and make sure Chara takes their medication.”

“ The pink bottle, yeah?”

“ Yes, it’s labelled ‘doxycycline’.”

“ Dox-see-sigh-cline. Gotcha.” Kris gave their mother a thumbs up before chugging the orange juice directly from the carton, right in front of God and everybody.

Everything was going to be okay, she thinks. For now.

  
  
  


A soft knock came at Undyne’s door at around six, and upon opening it was she met with a tall, pink silhouette standing at her door. He stunk punchantly of alcoholic perfume.

It was Mettaton, and his head almost reached the top of her door frame with how much height his heels gave him. Not only that, but the bright pink dress he wore framed him to look like a ghost floating in the floodlights. He gave Undyne a big smile and grabbed her shoulders with two gloved hands, “ Hello, darling! You look wonderful tonight.”

She tried to shoulder off his touch but the grip was too strong on her jacket, “ Uh, thanks, mettaton. Let me go get Toriel.”

She firmly moved his hands off her shoulders and turned to move into the kitchen, Mettaton following carefully behind with a still-beaming smile on his face.

Toriel sat waiting in the kitchen, Chara in her lap eating a lukewarm bowl of oatmeal.

“ Greetings, I don’t think I ever properly met you. I’m Toriel Dreemurr.” she smiled up at him. It was rare for her to meet someone who beat her in stature, besides her own husband. Chara gave the tall man a look before going back to minding their own business and eating their oatmeal.

Mettaton beamed back, “ Mettaton Jeong, It’s a pleasure! I’m so happy you’ve agreed to come with us tonight.”

“ I’m grateful for the invitation…. But, where exactly are we going?”

Mettaton stepped back, raising his arms dramatically, “ Why, none other my own place of work! It’s a fine little restaurant, with plenty of entertainment ---”

“ It’s a cabaret,” Undyne whispered. Mettaton shot her a look.

“ Oh! I’ve never been to such a place. I didn’t think those still existed, let alone in a place like….. well, here.” She laughed anxiously. Chara continued eating their oatmeal, breathing heavily as they never learned to breathe through their nose.

“ Oh, but they do,” Mettaton latched onto Toriel now, “ But it’s a wonderful establishment, and I promise everything will be lovely. We always put our guests first, after all.”

“ Yeah, yeah,” Undyne chimed in, “ We should take my car and get going, then, unless you two wanna get stuck in a snowstorm.”

It was a god awful place to find decent parking near, but after a few missed-rear ends did they find a spot alongside the sidewalk. The whole ride there Mettaton and Toriel talked each other’s ears off, mainly about Mettaton’s line of business ( cabaret entertainment, mainly singing and script performances,) and Toriel’s dream of being a teacher that she never explored beyond homeschooling.

“ It’s quite fun, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a whole classroom,” She peered out the window for a moment in thought.

Mettaton could tell the thought made her a bit sad, reaching over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder not unliked Undyne, “ I’m sure you’ll be able to meet that dream one day, darling. You seem very determined.”

“ Oh, goodness no, it’s far past my prime to do such a thing.”

“ You’re never too old to do anything.”

“ We’re here,” Undyne pushed her gear into park and cut the engine.

An excited glance out the window left Toriel puzzled, as she couldn’t make out where ‘here’ was. It looked like a simple sidewalk where they parked next to a few apartment complexes and shops, all dusted over with a light sprinkling of snow. Nothing jumped out at her as a cabaret.

“ It’s a bit hidden,” Mettaton said as he shut his door a bit too hard, “ It’s just the leasing. We take what we can get, after all.”

“ It’s a cabaret, though they don’t actually call it that,” Undyne scrunched her face, “ which is why it’s not advertised very well.”

“ It is it not! It’s the architecture!” He stomped his foot in the snow, but Undyne just cackled.

The ‘place’ from the outside was a simple wooden door squashed between two buildings, one an apartment complex and the other a for sale used-to-be-bookshop. It had brick outer lining, and lights could be seen coming in through the glass window right in the middle of the door. Toriel had never once paid attention to this place, or even knew it existed; but a little sign hanging ten feet above them signaled out “The Underground”.

Mettaton opened the door for the group once he recomposed himself ( Undyne is very good at pushing his buttons), gesturing to the flight of stairs directly greeting them. Dimly lit, with a small railing, the three made their way down to an incredibly small opening space with yet another door. Undyne grazed her hand against the brick walls as she descended.

“ Yo, this place feels like a dungeon,” Undyne knocked her boots against Mettaton’s as he knocked on the door.

“ I rather like it, it has a rather magical feeling to it,” Toriel interjected. Undyne could see the slightest smile as she looked up and around at the lights around them.

After a moment’s beat, the door opened, and a tall figure met face-to-face with Mettaton. Toriel was caught aback by the figure and nearly shoved Undyne into the wall upon stepping back. Cramped spaces aren’t Undyne’s favorite right now.

“ I didn’t know you were working the door tonight,” he sneered at the stranger. He was around the height of Mettaton, with scraggly facial hair and sunken eyes. The guy barely looked over nineteen.

“ Rouxls didn’t wanna work it, so I have to,” He sneered, “ So, what’s the damage?”

“ Three adults, one’s non-alcoholic,” He opened his hand to the stranger, who snidely dispensed a red band. Handing it to Toriel, Undyne helped show her how to put it on before following Mettaton into the opening.

“ Oh! This place is so charming,” Toriel gasped and clasped her hands. It was a nicely-furnished bar-type place, with a bar stationed to the left of the door, feeding out to a room of tables and a large stage to the opposite end. Toriel ogled the champagne lighting and the low-rise ceiling, the faux-crystal chandelier and the rather dirty red carpet underneath their feet. Undyne’s eyes caught the various framed photos lining the wood panelling, from the various showpieces and concert flyers to all the unknown faces and group photos perfectly encaptured behind the glass.

Her eyes caught on one particular photo, a bit too far down to make out entirely; it looked like someone holding an instrument, beaming alongside a woman. The faces were familiar, but the light reflecting off the glass obscured them both.

“ -- Oh, Undyne,” Toriel’s hand on her back snapped her out of her inquison with the photo. She whipped around to meet the older woman’s gaze.

“ Oh, yeah?”

Mettaton cleared his throat, “ I said, what would you like to drink? The bar is over there,” He pointed to the small area where an older man stood before a rather overwhelming collection of bottles.

“ Uh, you got midori sours?”

Mettaton smiled, “ I didn’t know you came to like cocktails.”

“ A lot changes in a decade.”

“ Good to know. I’ll be having the same, then.”

“ Oh!” Toriel clapped her hands, “ Do you have any tea here?”

  
  
  


“ Hey, c’mon, cheer up a little,” Chara wasn’t amused at all, slumping further into the loveseat with their arms crossed. 

They were all alone in the house, Frisk and Asriel having been put in the kitchen to sort a puzzle after a short nap. Chara was a bit more restless, headaches still being pretty consistent for them despite the painkillers given to them by the doctor. Kris had tried everything to cheer Chara up: coloring was no use, Chara just scribbled and drew malicious imagery to exert their pain and frustration, which would only rile them up; food rarely helped, and Chara didn’t enjoy watching TV because their attention was easily grabbable; walks or playing pretend was out of the question. Kris was at the end of their wits with what to do, but if Chara began to cry they knew it would be all over for the rest of the night. Chara was a hysterical crier.

Kris rummaged around in their brain for something, anything to get Chara to stop moping around. It took a moment of deep thought, of cracking their knuckles and sorting through their brain for them to finally come up with something.

“  _ Hey _ ,” their voice was now a whisper as they crouched next to Chara, “  _ You wanna see a secret _ ?”

“ What secret--”

“  _ Ssshh, quiet. Come on. _ ”

They hoisted Chara up out of the chair and made their way across the floor, dodging the kitchen to not signal their siblings on what they were doing. 

Down the hall was their bedroom, a small guest room with a large bed ( for Asriel, Chara, and Frisk to share,) and a small cot laid next to it ( for Kris). All else that was in the room was a small window, it’s still covered with a few small plants and an empty photo frame. An entirely empty dresser sat on the other side, against the wall, and a large, horizontally framed painting hung above the bed. It was of unidentifiable golden flowers.

The sun was coming in through the window and casting an orange glow to the room, creating a spotlight against the blue walls. Kris carefully sat Chara down on the bed and shut the door softly. They moved over to the dresser, assessing it’s weight with a quick nudge before finding that it’s pretty sturdy but still moveable.

“  _ What are you doing? _ ” Chara asked, still whispering.

Kris moved to the other side of the dresser and began to pull it from it’s bottom, scraping against the carpet as they got it move bit by bit, slowly revealing a door painted the same color as the wall. Chara’s eyes widened in surprise.

“ How did you know that was there?”

“ Too tall of a house to just be two stories. I saw the window when we were driving up.”

It lacked a doorknob, but they managed to pry it open by pulling it from the bottom, revealing a set of narrow stairs leading up to utter darkness.

“ You’re not afraid of the dark anymore, are you?”

“ No.”

“ Okay, good, ‘cause you’re going up first.”

The stairs led up to a dead-end wall, but there was a platform to their right that Chara managed to be hoisted up on to. Kris came next, grabbing the ledge and attempting to jump their way up --- after a few misses, Kris manages one leg up and rolls onto the platform.

They couldn’t see much, except for a dim spot of light coming in from the other side. It lit up the small bits of dust floating in the air, probably kicked up by their movement as they began to shuffle around for any sort of switch.

“ I think I found a light,” Chara grabbed at a pull string that, thankfully, turned out to be connected to an old lamp.

With a  _ click! _ the small attic space lit up. It looked nothing like the rest of the house --- the vaulted ceiling was an ugly off-white, and the side wall were wood-panelled and barely raised. The floor was the same type, and it creaked and shuddered with every step as Kris tried to stand up. Kris head met with the ceiling point with a hard thud before they could even unbend their knees, and Chara laughed. It was a cramped spot, alright.

Somehow, an ugly green sofa was managed to the other side of the room, where the window Kris saw from the outside sat. On it were some boxes, and a few more were strewn about; otherwise, all that seemed to have kept company up here was dust and spiders.

“ C’mon,” Kris grabbed at Chara’s arms and began to slide them across the floor, “ Let’s snoop.”

One of the boxes was surprisingly already open, and bursting at the edges with what looked like a big bunch of bullshit. Chara sat patiently on the sofa as Kris began to shove everything around in it digging, kicking up even more ungodly amounts of dust.

“ Why do you think she has this place blocked off?” Chara shoved their face into the box.

“ I dunno, maybe it holds secrets we aren’t supposed to know,” Kris revealed a pirate hat and shoved it onto Chara’s head, “ All I can find is prop shit, though.”

Chara giggled as they attempted to fix the large brim out of their eyes, “ Maybe she was a pirate!”

“ Or a big nerd, look at this stuff!” They pulled out various props, from foam and plastic swords to various-colored bandanas, a large pair of red boots, a flattened wizards hat and a small magicians stick. The box was full of nothing but various gimmicks and outfits, all in various sizes and state of deterioration, “ Why does she keep all of this junk?”

Chara grabbed a sword from off the ground; it was a large foam one with a wonky blue guard and small chunks missing from the blade. Chara swung it once at Kris’ thigh, and when Kris gave them a look they giggled and smacked their arm with it.

“ You wanna play games now?” They grabbed a sword from the box and took a step back, “ En guard!” They take a swing at Chara but just barely miss, giving Chara the opening to attack; from the couch they retaliated with a solid slice to Kris’ head. They giggle as Kris pretends to wipe blood from their head and spot it on their hands, an exaggerated gasp as they grab their sword and swing again.

“ I’ll never die!” They yell with conviction and swing at Chara’s arm. They pull back on the couch and try to sit on the headrest while only using one leg, and Kris’ attack hits their bad one instead; there, they managed to plunge their sword into Kris’ back, who collapses to the floor with their head on the couch, groaning as they slowly began to die.

“ You got…. Me..” Kris lets out a fake cough, “ I’ll never… forg--”

“ Whats goong on here!” Frisk’s afro popped up from behind the platform, two beady eyes staring at them.

“ We’re playing swords, go away Frisk.” Chara crossed their arms.

“ Naur, I wanna play, too!” Frisk’s meaty hands grabbed onto the ledge as someone underneath hoisted them up with their determination. Asriel’s head popped up afterwards, following his sibling up into the room.

“ OK, well, if you wanna play, you’re going to have to be your own team. Me and Chara are the pirates --” They turned to look at Chara, reaching out an arm, “ Truce?”

Chara looked at Frisk, before looking back at Kris, “.... Truce.”

They shook hands.

Frisk grabbed a foam sword, and Asriel grabbed a funny looking spear.

It was pirates vs pirates, and the sun was setting on the horizon as a fight broke out on the third-story of the house.

Chara was smiling during all of it.

  
  


The three had collected their drinks from the bar, with Mettaton introducing the two to his boss, Grillby. The man barely spoke to the others as he fetched the drinks, but Mettaton waved that away as just his personality, being ‘very to himself’.

“ He works the bar mostly, and makes quite the best drinks if I can say so myself.” Mettaton flaunted as they all took a far-end table.

“ He kinda looks like the KFC mascot, “ Undyne chimed. Toriel covered her snort with her hand. He really did; tall, broad shoulders, white hair pulled back in a bit of a lick with wide-framed glasses. He could easily pull off being a Colonel Sanders impersonator if he took off his black vest and tie.

“ He quite does, now doesn't he?” The two giggled as Mettaton shot them a look of a mocking disapproval, sipping his peach crush in defense of his boss.

The place was surprisingly packed, with only a few tables left unseated despite the shows having not even started yet. Mettaton sipped his glass again as he watched the stagehands run around on the unlit platform to get everything ready, recognizing a few as they helped set up his own shows.

“ So you work here?” Toriel clasped her hands in her lap as she waited for her tea to cool, “ I’m assuming you are one of the performers?”

“ I do! I have been going on for almost seven years now,” he smiled sweetly at Toriel, “ If you like it here, you should come back and see me. I work every night during the week, evenings to night.”

“ You never stop with the advertisements, do you?”

“ Oh I understand, I’d love to see you perform some time, Mettaton. “ She smiled back. Just as Undyne was about to roll her eyes, the lights began to dim and the stage was illuminated.

As Toriel’s sight was guided to the stage, Mettaton tapped on Undyne’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper to her, “ Do you remember an old friend of mine from highschool, the tall one with funny eyelashes?”

Undyne knitted her brows, trying to remember, “ What grade?”

“ No, no, the one I hung out with…. Afterwards.”

“ Yeah, a little bit. Tall, sad eyes, kind of a mess? What was his name?”

The music had slowly begun to play, the swelling of an accordion and drums filling the bar and quieting the chatter. Toriel’s eyes fixated on the empty stage as the lights began to fill and expose a very small setup of foliage and cardboard scenery, like one of those middle school play backdrops.

A thin layer of curtains pulled back to reveal a tall figure’s back as the drum marched on.

The singer’s voice filled the air for a moment as long, white hair swayed. Two gloved hands behind to grab at their dress, before spinning around and revealing their face.

“ It’s Rouxls Kaard down here.”

A pale white face appeared behind perfectly parted white hair, accentuated white eyelashes fluttering as Rouxls picked up the tempo. The dress was a dramatic piece of fashion, fashioned like he had jumped out of a period piece and landed on stage. Decorated head to toe with suits and jewelry, cladded with diamonds and pearls and overly-stuffed petticoats and too-high boots, yet somehow moving around the stage with grace and ease. Undyne gasped in amazement as he continued on with a rather gruesome song about love and heart transplants.

_ That’s him?  _ She mouthed at Mettaton, who nodded his head.

“ He cleaned up well, didn’t he?”

Jumping and prancing around the stage, Rouxls had the audience captivated through song and movement, seemingly playing out a one-person stage act. His movements were at one moment elegant and dainty, and the next stilted and erratic as the accordion jumped from romantic to almost sea shanty-esque. It was a performance none of them had never seen the likes of, and Undyne watched with an agape mouth.

Toriel, on the other hand, was bouncing in her own seat to the tune, hands clasped together under chin as she watched Rouxls with stars in her eyes. Mettaton, having seen this performance more times than he can count, simply sipped his peach crush a little more and grinned. His friend knew how to capture an audience well.

Before they knew it, the performance ended with Rouxls taking a small bow and prancing off the stage to a dying sound of an accordion. Toriel clapped alongside a few others.

“ Oh, that was incredible!” She backed around to meet Undyne and Mettaton’s gaze, obviously feeling much refreshed than she was before getting here, “ I’ve never seen anything like that before!”

Mettaton struck a pose in his seat, “ One of a kind shows, only in the Underground, darling!”

“ Will we be seeing them again?” Toriel seemed pretty excited.

“ It’s a variety night tonight, so sadly not, but!” Mettaton waved a hand to a framed photo nearby that depicted the performer in full getup, “ Rouxls is a regular here, so there’s plenty more nights to stop by and see.”

As Toriel eyed the performance times on the poster, Mettaton leaned back over to Undyne, “ Your thoughts, darling?”

Undyne was still trying to find her words, “  _ That’s _ him?”

“ Cleaned up well, didn’t he?”

“ I fucking guess,” She looked back at the stage, “ The hell did he do to get rid of his lisp--”

“ Oh, I thill haveth the cursed lisp,” A voice came from behind Undyne, making her jump her seat.

The man, the myth, the loser stood behind her, except now he was nothing like the loser she remembers; greasy manlet with a wide tooth gap and a horrendous trench coat. Now he nearly loomed over her, having lost all the manlet meat but becoming less greasy and evening out of the features; the makeup was an obvious help, with blue and iridescent white accentuating his white eyelashes and rather… sweet-looking eyes that still dropped a bit at the corners. And good lord, does he have at least a whole head of height between him and Undyne. He gave everybody a slight smile.

“ What a wonderful performing, darling, “ Mettaton moved out of his chair to hug his friend and co-worker, being of almost equal height, Undyne standing off the side, dumbfounded.

“ It hath been quite a while, hasn’t it?” Rouxls looked over at Undyne once they released, pushing out an arm for a handshake, “ Remembering me just by my lisp, how cruel.” He laughed.

Undyne shook his gloved hand, “ It’s been a good decade, yeah. Still speaking ye’ old too, huh?”

“ I haven’t sworn off it yet,” It seemed easier to talk now that they were both adults. If they were younger they certainly would’ve been in each other’s faces.

“ Oh!!” Toriel had managed to notice the three and jump over, excitedly shaking hands with Rouxls with such an adoring look in her eyes, “ I absolutely adored your performance, you are quite the spectacular dancer.” Her grip took over his rather slim hand and he was seemingly jostled around by Toriel’s strength, to the amusement of Mettaton and Undyne.

The few stood around and chatted for a moment, mainly Rouxls engaging Toriel’s attention and eating up the compliments given by her. The whole time Undyne couldn’t stop staring between him and Mettaton.

It was weird for her to remember them from nearly a decade ago, nothing like they are now; they used to be greasy, poorly dressed annoyances in her friend group, Mettaton being a bit closer to her as they were neighbors growing up, too. Rouxls was a bit harder to remember specifics, beyond being a theatre kid with a penchant for being overly flirtatious and rather annoying.

It was a long time ago, but…. Falling out with Mettaton, it was all she had to remember them by. Standing there with them now, finely dressed and socializing, she felt like she was interacting with completely different people masked as those from before.

But… maybe it’s the same for them, with her. She sips her midori anxiously at the thought.

“ I haveth little time to speak, so i’ll be off,” He said, shaking Toriel’s hands one more time with a smile, “ MTT, I must passeth on a word though, from Seam.”

“ Oh? Is Seam here?” He looked around.

“ In the back, the ‘keep shall be out once finished to speaketh to you.”

“ I’ll keep an eye out, thank you, darling.” They hugged once more before Rouxls parted off into the small sea of people returning to their seats for the next act. Toriel sat back down with great satisfaction, smiling as she sipped her tea.

“ Hey, who’s ‘the keep’?” Undyne questioned.

“ Another performer-slash-friend of mine. A little bit near your age, Toriel dear. I think you two would hit it off well.”

“ Oh! I’d love to meet this ‘keep’. Your friends all seem very lively.”

“ You seem in high spirits,” Undyne smiled.

“ I haven’t gotten out like this in forever! I guess it’s good for the old bones to be out and mingle.”

The three laugh and continued their chatter, as yet again the stage hands prepared for another performance.

  
  
  


“ Mom said you couldn’t see your giiirlfriend,” Asriel teased, slung over the armrest of a chair.

“ She said I couldn’t  _ go  _ and see my girlfriend. Doesn’t mean she can’t come  _ here _ .”

Chara had finally managed to fall asleep, and the group left them alone in their shared room, instead getting the children to conglomerate into the living room for a voracious watch party of  _ Wow Wow Wubbzy _ . Kris had snuck into the kitchen to call up their girlfriend, and was (rightfully so) eavesdropped on by Frisk, who could never seem to mind their own business.

“ You gotta promise you won’t tattle on me to mom, okay?” Kris stuck out their pinkie after bargaining with the two younger ones that yes, they’ll order pizza if they’ll keep this a secret. Frisk looked at the outstretched gesture with comical defiance, faking being in deep thought when Kris knew there’s nothing going up there besides re-runs of their favorite show.

“ Deal!” They said after a minute, locking pinkies and solidifying the secret six feet under.

It took her a good half hour, but eventually an extremely busted up  _ Plymouth Voyager  _ came up on the sidewalk, the vibrations from the cranked-up bass being felt from inside. A damn richter scale could pick that up.

“ Howdy, stranger!” Kris called from the open door into the night. A large, stacked teen came out from the driver’s side, pizza box in one hand. She shuffled her away around and jumped up the steps.

“ You order one large, cold sausage?” She said in a bit of a monotone.

“ I also ordered a kiss,” Kris teased. From behind her pink-highlighted side swept bang her lips curled, lines creasing her rather gothic eye makeup. She gave Kris a peck on the cheek and handed over the pizza.

“ Uh, where’s my tip?” She prodded. Kris returned the affection and kissed her back.

“ You guys are grooooosss!” Asriel gagged from the living room. The two laughed, and Catti was gestured into the house.

Mettaton scurried over to a figure near the stage curtains while Undyne sipped the last of her midori sour, a bit overwhelmed by how lemony it truly was but otherwise enjoying the drink. Looking over to a rather at ease Toriel who was fidgeting with her tea cup and looking around at the other customers, she tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

“ Hey, how you enjoying yourself so far?” Undyne asked sincerely. Obviously stressed this morning, it was a bit of whiplash to see Toriel suddenly so happy and lively…. Maybe all she needed was some fresh air and an adventure.

“ This place is so…. Different,” Her eyes grazed over the ceiling, “ I’ve never been in a place like this in…. Ever. Why, I didn’t even know they had places like around here.”

“ You’ll be surprised by the kinds of things you find,” Undyne laughed, placing her elbows on the table to massage her neck with her hands, “ It’s good to get out. I remember when you and --- well, uh, him went out a lot.”

“ Oh goodness, how long ago was all that? I think you were just a highschooler like my eldest.”

“ Fourteen years? Jesus christ!” Undyne let out one of her louder laughs, “ Shit, we haven’t seen each other in over a decade!”

“ And you grew up to be absolutely the same,” Toriel comically chided, pinching Undyne’s cheek, “ You even let your hair grow out. I remember when you shaved all of it off --”

“ --- Oh god, and you could see how lumpy my head was!” She had shaved it off in a fit of rebellion against her parents, only to later on reckon with her lumpy head through various bad school photos and the ugliest driver’s license she’d ever seen. When she had showed up to babysit, even Toriel ( remembering a younger Toriel…. God, it’s really been forever,) had giggled at the sight. Undyne’s lumpy head will forever go down in history. Rest in peace lumpy bald-headed teen Undyne, you went down swinging.

While the two were busy giggling over Undyne’s bad choices in adolescent, Mettaton stood in a corner with the large figure, whispering between themselves as stagehands passed in and out with various instruments.

“ I think you should come talk to her. You two would hit it off really well,” He pouted, placing a gentle hand on the other’s shoulder. The figure glanced over to Mettaton’s table.

“ You know very well I’m no good with people, especially at this age.”

“ You’re getting old, Seam, don’t you want to make a connection before you go?”

“ If nobody shows up at my funeral, it means less work for everybody.” Mettaton knew the other well and recognized the attempt at humor, which admittedly got a slight smile out of him. The brash avoidance of social interaction made Mettaton worry, though.

“ Come on, darling, she’s very sweet, I think you’d be a good influence on her. Come sit with us at least,” He pulled on Seam’s arm. 

Seam took a moment, before finally giving in with a smile, “ Alright, but If I scare her off, I do not expect to be held accountable.”

“ C’mon now, you will do nothing of the sort,” Mettaton grabbed Seam’s hand and began to pull the two of them back into the sea of tables, “ It’s very hard to be scared of someone with a face like your’s, after all.”

On the other side of the room, Undyne and Toriel were busy giggling amongst themselves to notice their return at first, to which Mettaton tapped Undyne’s shoulder. Thinking it was some freak stranger, she spun around rather aggressively, only to find herself overshadowed by a massive wall of…. Something fluffy.

“ This is Seam,” Mettaton introduced to everybody, Undyne getting the brunt of a rather firm handshake from what she could now understand was a person, while Toriel just got a light jostle, “ I know it’s sudden, but I thought it be nice to have someone tag along for the night, just for a little bit.”

She took a pretty good look at Seam; insanely tall, but with enough of a hunch to still just be only a sliver above Mettaton; a wide build hidden behind the ugliest orange feather boa and floor-length dress, paired with a patched up cardigan that almost looked like a cloak with how massive it was, obviously not at all wanting to compliment the figure; Long, curly hair that never seemed to end, framing a small face that was incredibly slanted and wrinkled on one side; a hand gripped a wooden cane, and the other outstretched to shake.

“ It’s a pleasure to meet you, Seam.” Toriel gave Seam a sincere smile.

“ You work here, too?” Undyne asked, shaking her empty glass.

“ A long time ago,” Seam snatched Mettaton’s seat during the pleasantries, so he hung back to the table behind them, pulling his chair in behind Undyne. Undyne felt almost cornered by the two nearly twice her age she sat between, while Mettaton continued to smile from over her shoulder.

“ Seam used to be the best in the business here --- before I came along of course,” Mettaton gloated, to a rather small grin from Seam.

“ I’m the reason you got your job in the first place, so perhaps it’s better if you gloat when I’m not in arms reach,” Seam punctuated the point by pushing a singular finger against Mettaton’s temple, who simply laughed in response. Undyne sipped her non-existent drink, stupefied, while Toriel seemed to find amusement between the two’s seemingly slapstick friendship. Glad that she’s having fun, at least.

Toriel managed to get her way into the conversation after a moment, “ Oh, you were a performer here too?”

“ Yes, a long time ago.” 

“ You talk as if you’re ancient, darling.”

“ It’s because I am. I could very well be all of your parents,” The feather boa around Seam’s neck fluttered with every breath. “ Besides, you know very well I can’t remember much that far back.

“ Seam was a wonderful stage performer back then, trust me,” Mettaton patted Toriel’s hand, “ A voice like brass bells and the ability to carry a tune like no other.”

“ You should go back to bragging about yourself, my friend, and not get her hopes up of hearing me.”

“ Oh, that’s alright,” Toriel returned the gesture and patted Mettaton’s hand away, “ There’s some things you miss when you’re like me. I’m sure you were a wonderful performer, Seam.”

Seam glanced over to Toriel, who had her whole body moved towards the performer, while Seam was turned more away. There was something sincere about the smile on her face, it wrinkled her cheeks just the slightest and made her eyes look almost teary.

‘ _ Some things you miss when you’re like me. _ ’ Seam stuck that on the backburner for later.

“ Oh?” The lights began to dim once again, the stagehands shuffling the last of the instruments around. They could just barely make out a couple figures approaching the stage through the darkness, with one standing directly center front while the rest of the shadows moved around to their respective setups. Undyne squinted, trying to make out the shapes while the sound of a trumpet warming up overtook the theatre.

While the four were talking, the place seemed to have become a bit overcrowded; more people piling in as the night went on to the point where the tables were practically full, and a few even lingered at the bar when the stools were all taken up. It was a good night for business, and Mettaton smiled to himself.

“ Thank you for having us,” a high voice spoke through the microphone, setting of it’s sensitivity a bit, “ We’re happy to be back in Ebbott!”

The crowd cheered, and the music began to swell up with the tune of a guitar and beat of the drums. A choir of brass, trumpet and trombone, welcomed the lights to the stage as the band was now in full swing, to which Undyne nearly choked on her own spit.

“ Papyrus?!”


	5. Wake up! pft 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious trombone-playing ska-leton is none other than an old friend of Undyne's, and Toriel stays out past bed time! How scandalous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN A FEW MONTHS HUH  
IF THIS CHAPTER SUCKS JUST KNOW; I KNOW ANOTHER ONE IS COMING OUT LATER TONIGHT

This night was fucking ridiculous.

Undyne sat latched to the edge of her seat, attempting to get a better look without getting up; the crowds of people were getting her in her way, and she was almost too shocked to even move if she wanted to.

The man in question was front-and-center in the stage, working a trombone between his lips while dancing around, narrowly avoiding the lead singer as she sung some sort of ska-esque, incomprehensible tune.

The music was contagious, the bellowing trump and rolling drums orchestrating a beat nearly impossible to not at the very least tap your foot to. The way the music rolled in from a simple drumline to a whole parade of instruments, of high-toned brass and jazzy sax: it was loud and exciting, it welcomed the small bar in with explosive life.

While everybody else at the table was enjoying the music, Undyne was just dumbfounded; Papyrus? She hasn’t seen that fucker in  _ years!  _ What the hell is he doing here, right now? It definitely wasn’t some sort of plan on Mettaton’s part, despite how much that guy loved messing around in people’s lives --- he doesn’t even know who Papyrus is, she’s sure of it. Left school too early to have even a smidgen of an idea who he was.

So why here! Why now! And why was he on stage singing goddamn Ska!

Through her spiral of thoughts Undyne could just barely make out Mettaton’s face near her shoulder, mouthing something but incomprehensible over the raging music.

“  _ What? _ ”

“  _ Do you know him! _ ” Mettaton shouted, pointing directly at Papyrus on stage before returning his hand to his face. There was something in Mettaton’s eyes that she could see, the way he watched the other man dance, the gloved hand gently against his lips as his face almost softened to the music, like a child experiencing a first joy. He had a genuine smile on his face, not the fake show stopping one he’d rehearsed for years. Oh, did she know that look, and she did  _ not like  _ it.

Immediately Undyne smacked him in the clavicle upon realizing.

“  _ What! _ ” Mettaton pulled back, laughing a bit with arms up in protest, “ _ I like men who can dance! Sue me! _ ”

Papyrus, the tall one with the trumpet and the scruffy facial hair, continued his jive across the stage, while his singer-companion carried the tune; her victory curls just peeking out from her trilby as she swayed with the music. Her smile was captivating, with her tooth gap accentuated as she sang loud and clear her story about love and dreams.

Unable to recognize anybody else, Undyne continued to watch her friend in astonishment; she hadn’t seen him in years! Once they all went off to college the connections loosened and ultimately they lost each other. The fact that he was back home, of all nights this one, truly made Undyne feel like something strange --- something beyond the coincidences of Ebbott --- was going on.

Meanwhile, the whole bar was entranced by the upbeat ska; by the chorus a few were even out of their seats and dancing, people approaching the stage to get a better look, the bar goers clapping along to the beat in a drunken stupor. Toriel watched as the young and excited got out of their seats, twisting and jumping with hands clasped with their friends, awkward dancers and master alike following the tune, dazzled by the display. Seam sat across, simply looking as bored as usual, tapping a single foot along to the music. Toriel’s seemingly childlike amazement at the concert caught Seam’s attention, however.

Seam leaned over to speak to her, “ Do you know how to dance?”

“ Oh, goodness no. I haven’t danced in what feels like an eternity,” she laughed, not catching on.

“ Would you like to learn?”

She turned to face Seam, a small look of confusion across her face. The other seemed totally serious, with the smallest smile, despite the anonymity between the two. Seam lent out a hand across the table.

“ Do it, Darling, Seam is a great dancer,” Mettaton whispered behind a hand to her. A moment of hesitation came over her as she lightly retracted her hand, thinking.

Fuck it.

“ I would love to,” She lent Seam her hand, and the two sat up from the table and moved away. Never noticing until now due to Toriel having been sitting when they met, she realized that her and Seam were almost the same height. They managed to reach a pocket of people, where Seam grabbed both of Toriel’s hands.

“ Just follow along with everybody else,”

“ Is that the trick to dancing?” she asked, a bit anxious. Toriel felt a sort of embarrassment with taking up space around the crowd; but holding Seam’s hands, the unwavering confidence the performer seems to have as they both stood there while others worked around them. She felt a little less scared to take up space, then.

“ It’s the trick for shitty dancing,” Seam chuckled.

Seam pulled and Toriel pushed, reversing tactics and attempting to find any sort of footing; when none could be found, they simply continued to the ridiculous act, the music overcoming them as they began to bounce on their feet and shimmy around, blending into the crowd as the trombones and snares and melodic singing overcame them. Soon it felt natural as they moved, and Toriel began to laugh at how silly this all felt.

“ Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“ We look like fools!” Toriel cried out in another fit of laughter, bending over as she giggled in Seam’s arms.

The two continued their silly dancing in their own pocket of the crowd, twisting and pulling and pushing. Even Seam had begun unable to hold back a laugh, smiling as the other continued to cry over the music in a fit of giggles. 

She hadn’t dance like this in forever, her only memory of doing so being at her wedding; but that was formal, with rehearsed steps and cautious handling of the other, of body language to be read and exact steps to be followed --- and this was nothing like that, a mess of movements as they were overwhelmed with the music, unable to think about anything else as they moved in unsynchronized tandem.

As the song began to end on the last melancholic blows of the trumpet, the singer re-approached the mic, “ Thank you everyone for having us!” She said in her mousy voice. The crowd cheered back at her, causing her to step away in embarrassment and cover her laugh as she laughed, Papyrus grabbing her arm to tug her off the stage, smiling and waving as they made their way to the back.

Mettaton lurched off his seat before Undyne grabbed his dress, “ Where are you going?”

“ Backstage, I wish to give my thanks to the performers,” He teasingly smiled, “ Would you like to come along?”

The two made their way through and crowd and over to the small door off of the stage; they slipped into the back with ease, being met with a small, narrow hallway that fed into the guts of the backstage, dimly lit with endless black walls and a ceiling higher than the one out in the stage.

“ The hell kind of Narnia is this?” Looked around, surprised at how big the back rooms were compared to the main area. The place felt like a whole nother building, how on earth was this squished behind a shitty hole-in-the-wall bar?

“ It’s the basement of the apartment complex next door, we pay to rent it out.” Mettaton guided Undyne through the maze of tiny hallways with ease, following the sound of moving instruments. Eventually they came upon a small opening room, where various decorations, props, instruments, and people sat around, the stage hands pushing and shoving to get things ready for the next setup.

The woman from the stage was sitting on a small box, talking to one of the strange hands before noticing the two galavanting in. Upon seeing Undyne, her eyes seem to have lightened up.

“ Oh, Undyne!”

She jumped from her seat and rushed over to Undyne, giving her a rather firm hug while she just looked at Mettaton confused. When she pulled away, she could tell Undyne had no clue who she was.

“ It’s me, Undyne. It’s Shyren,” She pointed at her face. The pieces seemed to click together for the other woman, who’s eyes grew wide at the realization.

“ What the hell, it’s been years!” She exclaimed, going back in for a better hug this time. Shyren laughed as she wrapped her hands around Undyne’s neck.

“ It has, hasn’t it.”

“ God, you look different!” Undyne patted Shyren’s shoulders, “ What on earth happened?”

“ Oh, I got myself cleaned up, left town, and started performing,” Shyren laughed a bit shyly, “ You know how it is.”

“ The years out of here treated you well,” the two laughed. A figure came through from the door behind them, and Undyne turned.

“ You too, spaghetti boy.”

Papyrus stopped in his tracks at hearing his old nickname, confused before overwhelming excitement took over his face, “ Undyne!!” She moved out of Shyren’s grip only to be jumped back into another hug by Papyrus. 

The two onlookers giggled as Undyne squeezed the man so hard she lifted him off the ground, setting him back down with a thud and a laugh, “ Hey, asshole, it’s been a while!”

“ I didn’t know you were here!” His smile was so wide, it took up a good portion of his golden face, the scruff of his facial hair twisting with his smile. Mettaton took a good look at him now that they were closer, eyeing his short but broad stature and his pitch black hair. A smile crossed his face as the two continued to mingle.

While Papyrus and Undyne continued on poking at each other’s new looks, Shyren slipped over to Mettaton’s side, a small grin framing her somewhat sad-looking face, “ It’s been a while.” She whispered.

“ It has, darling. I see things have changed.”

Shyren laughed, “ For you, too. You look good.”

“ Thank you, as do you. The curls are a nice touch.”

“ You always said they’d frame my face well.”

“ And they do, especially now that you got those cheekbones.”

She laughed, “ Nothing a little bit of facial reconstruction can’t do. These gigs have really helped.”

“ Hey, Mettaton!” Undyne broke the conversation and gestured for Mettaton to come back over, leaving Shyren with a wave to stand by herself by a few propped up curtains.

Approaching the two, Undyne gestured at Papyrus, who in turn pushed out an excited hand for a shake, “ Paps wanted to meet you. This is Mettaton.”

“ Hell, darling,” He took his hand softly, brushing his fingers against his palm before moving in to shake, “ Your name is Papyrus?”

“ Yep! The great Papyrus, of course! One half of Shyren and the Ska-letons” Papyrus boasted with a wall of confidence. Undyne laughed.

“ You never stopped with that, did you?”

“ It has a nice ring to it,” Mettaton complimented, keeping eye contact with Papyrus, “ It suits you well.” He cracked a large smile at the compliment, showing off his rather pure white teeth and accentuated canines. The way his cheeks folded with his grins complimented his face well, Mettaton noted, smiling as well.

“ Apparently Paps really likes your stuff, too.” Undyne itched her nose.

“ Oh, really now?”

“ Yes!! I’ve seen you on stage before, your singing is so wonderful!”

Mettaton blushed lightly at the compliment, “ Thank you, darling. Your performance tonight was just as wonderful to watch, you really have quite the energy.” He rested a hand on Papyrus’ shoulder mindlessly. A few stagehands cut by with another band, filling up the back room space and overwhelming the room with nonsensical technical shouting.

“ Say,” Mettaton leaned in close to Papyrus, “ How about we go and get a drink, hm? I’d love to chat a little longer.”

Papyrus beamed at the proposition, “ I’d love too!” His face turned comically sad, “ All that trumpeting and jumping really tired me out, you know.”

“ Hey,” Undyne butted in with a firm hand on Mettaton’s arm, “ Maybe I wanna talk to my friend, too?”

“ Then come with! Shyren, darling, come out with us to the bar,” he waved her over, “ The drinks will be one me!” his eyes unwavering as he checked Papyrus out again, hand never leaving his shoulder.

  
  


Kris stared at the strange ‘trophy’ hung up in the wall. It caught their eyes after coming out of the bathroom, and they wondered how they didn’t see it before ---- cause it’s wicked ugly.

It was made out of pen and marker from the looks of it, and was wrinkled and bent to high hell, like someone shoved it in their pocket and then rolled down a hill; the edges of it were especially torn, and just everything about it’s childish construction made it stand out against the expensive frame it sat in. Poorly drawn laurels boxed the words in, and in a clearly rushed handwriting, in bright red ink, read:

_ Undyne _ _   
_ _ 1992 _ _   
_ _ Lakeland Union Highschool Girls Track Team _ _   
_ _ Middle Distance Run _

_ DEAD ASS LAST _

It was absolutely hilarious to them, first off --- but what really caught their eye was that Undyne went to the same school as them. It’s not weird, they just think it’d be interesting to know what it was like back then, if it was still a shitshow like it is now.

They think about the long hallway from the office to the lunch room, the one that has walls lined with trophy cases showing off all the teams from years gone by in yellowing and decaying colors, held together by wood carved from shop class. The photos seemingly begin to die as the years go by, from the grainy colors of 2002 to the washed away, green ink threatening to steal the last shadows of faces. They wonder if, maybe, they could find Undyne in the mix, standing before the track team.

Quickly, they take a photo of the paper --- mostly for novelty, and to remember the date --- and slip back down the hall to the living room to watch the action.

  
  
  


The other side of the stage also had a door, of which Seam led Toriel through to a smaller, metal door which opened up to an alleyway barely wide enough for the garbage container that sat in it. The cold, winter air was nice against her face, having gone hot with the mixture of dancing and a stuffy space -- it was quiet here, the city under the darkened sky having fallen asleep while they were wide awake indoors It felt nice. Few cars passed from the street, and it all muffled under the layers of snow forming thicker and thicker.

For a moment they stood, silence befalling them both comfortably; when Seam offered Toriel a cigarette, she cocked her head in hesitation, before taking it from the performer’s hand. She hadn’t smoked in forever, and didn’t think of Seam to be the type, but the effortlessness of lighting it meant Seam must smoke often.

“ Pardon, but I don’t think I know your name.” Seam broke the silence.

“ Ah! Toriel… Dreemurr.”

“Oh? Any possible relations to a Dr. Dreemurr?”

She must’ve involuntarily made an overly-disgusted face at the question, as Seam perked up in surprise. She quickly waved away the face, “ Ah, I'm very sorry, I am… I’m….. well,” she took a long drag from the cigarette and her head spun, “ We’re married, but….”

She made another disgusted face, crinkling her nose and closing her lips hard with a short jerking-motion of her hand.

“ Ah!” The other let out, more understanding now, “ Congratulations, then. Must be exciting.” 

She takes a rather abrasive drag from her cigarette and holds it for far too long, coughing and rubbing her eyes while choking out,“ Oh, I think you misunderstood-”

“ A divorce can’t be celebrated? I think they should, it would make the process much more fun.”

Toriel laughed a bit at that, “I’m assuming you’ve been through one yourself, dear?”

Seam smiled and took a drag, “ Not at all, been happily married for over thirty years now!”

“ Really! How old are you?”

“ Sixty and then some. We married in our thirties.”

“ You look much younger than I had expected.” Seam full-belly laughed at Toriel’s astonishment.

“ That’s quite nice of a lie for you to say, I think I look my age and then some,” Seam dotted, rubbing a side of the performer’s face more pronouncedly covered in wrinkles and lines, “ The stroke definitely aged me a few years ahead.”

“ A stroke!” She gasped.

“ Yes, had one just a few months before my husband proposed to me. It’s changed my life for the better i’d say, or we wouldn’t have ever married.”

“ What strange circumstances you must live under, I can’t imagine how a stroke could lead to getting married.”

“ It’s an entertaining way to life, if anything.If I recount everything, we’d be out here until sunrise ---” Seam took another drag, folding one arm over the one that held the cigarette, “ But i’d love to hear more about you. Don’t let me control the conversation, my friend.”

“ Ah, can I ask one more thing about you, actually?”

“ Go right ahead.”

Seam seemed so genuine to Toriel, she had forgotten they were strangers to each other. Maybe it was just nice to talk to someone around her age, someone with similar experiences. Or maybe the nicotine was poisoning her brain, who knows.

“ What is your partner like? I’m assuming you’re very happy in your marriage.”

“ Very, unfortunately we’ve met on a night where he’s not chasing me by the tail of my coat, ha ha.”

“ What's his name, if I may ask?”

“ Jevil.”

“..... Jevil?”

“ Yes, he picked it out himself!” Seam roared with laughter at the satisfaction of the performer’s own joke, Toriel rolling the name around in her head.

“ It’s…… well, it’s certainly a very charming name, if anything.” She laughed along, too.

  
  


Undyne barely got five minutes of conversation with her childhood best friend before getting tabled out of the conversation by the both of them. Shyren got a similar treatment, and the two ended up on the wall side of the bar together, talking about nothing in particular.

It had been jarring, at first, for Undyne to see Shyren as she was now. The last time they ever saw each other -- highschool -- Shyren was living in a sweatshirt and barely managing her stringy, greasy hair. It had only gotten exceptionally worse after her sister, Lemon, died, and then she just stopped talking to Undyne. 

Now she sat with more pride, her hair healthier and held back into victory rolls. She had more life to her face, and even began wearing makeup and shaving. She reminded Undyne of Mettaton a bit, but different at the same time.

“ It’s been a while…” Shyren bashfully spoke into her cup, “ Do you not wear braids anymore?”

“ Grew out of that, now i’m more into the ponytail look,” Undyne laughed a bit awkwardly, “ What’s been new with you?”

“ Ah, nothing really….. Well, besides everything, I suppose.”

“ Yeah, I got a lot of catching up to do with you guys. Never took you as the type to do…. Like ....” She motioned to the stage,” That, y’know.”

“ Papyrus really helped me get braver. I didn’t like being stared at, but it became fun after a while….. What about you? What are you doing now?”

“ I’m a physical therapist at the hospital in town.”

“ Oh, that’s wonderful to hear Undyne….. I never expected you to do medicine, what happened to MMA?”

Undyne pointed to her closed up eye, to which Shyren seemed to grimace, “ That’s so terrible, Undyne….” She seemed to reach out to touch it, but placed her thumb on Undyne’s cheek instead,” How did that happen?”

She hesitated to speak, glancing over at Mettaton for a half-second; it wouldn’t matter if he could hear, he seemed too enthralled talking to Papyrus to even notice that the Earth was spinning. She bit the inside of her cheek in a moment of hesitation.

“ Just an accident, I don’t think about it much nowadays. Plus, I like my job, even if it doesn’t involve pummeling people in a cage, ha ha!!”

Shyren pulled back, seeming like she wanted to say something more but letting it die, instead replying “ I’m really happy to hear that, Undyne.”

They talked a bit more, the topic of Undyne’s eye quickly dropping, Undyne relayed to Shyren the fact that the bartender there looks like colonel sanders ( to which Shyren giggled and agreed), drank their drinks and eyed their friends nearby who would  _ not _ stop talking for even a second to pay them attention, even when Shyren was called to the back to collect their instruments.

From where she sat, Papyrus had his back to her, and Mettaton’s face was crystal clear from him leaning against the counter, and he looked  _ enraptured _ \--- his heads resting against one gloved hand by the cheek, full attention to whatever Papyrus was talking about, a soft, warm smile to his face. Like someone looking at a pretty piece of art in a museum.

Surprisingly, Papyrus was just talking about how he wears fingerless gloves decorated with skeleton bones to go with the ska-leton joke of the band --- he raised his hands up to show Mettaton to the decals on the backs of them with a goofy grin on his face. 

“ See! I also have them on my lapels, and even on my socks!”

Mettaton laughed and raised a hand to tug at the lapels and look at the decals, causing Papyrus to become a bit flustered as he pulled forward, “ Did you do these yourself, darling?”

“ I did! They’re just iron-ons, but they’re one-of-a-kind designs by me!”

“ It’s very charming,” he let go, smoothing the lapel back down for him, “ What gave you the idea?”

“ I just really like the look! I’ve been dressing up as a skeleton for halloween since I was a kid, so when Shyren and I were making up a theme, we thought ‘ Well, I really, really like skeletons, and ska and skeletons start with the same letters! So we could be a ska band called the Ska-letons! And so we did!! But then Shyren became the lead singer, and we really wanted her to feel good, so now we’re ‘Shyren and the Ska-letons’!! We’re especially popular during Halloween because of it, too!!”

“ That’s so sweet, darling. How long have you been performing?”

“ Ah, excuse me --”

Shyren weaseled an arm in-between them, lugging a sizable in her other hand, “ Paps, there’s some things that still need moving to the car, I can’t really carry them…..”

“ Leave it to me, the great Papyrus!” He flexed at the exclamation, which made the three laugh.

“ Do you mind if I help? I know a shortcut through the back if you’re parked out there--”

“ Oh, that would be lovely,” Shyren shifted the case to her other hand, and the three were off. Undyne, noticing everybody having disappeared, quickly bounced off her barstool and B-lined to the backroom with the rest of them.

The door suddenly swung open and Toriel jumped as the door suddenly came swinging at her, only to find Undyne appearing from the other side and stopping it before it could hit her. She caught Seam’s gaze before noticing Toriel’s slightly terrified one.

“ Aw fuck, sorry for scaring you --- Have you guys seen the others? They came into the back and vanished like a damn magic trick.”

Seam’s head shook and Toriel repeated the action.

“ Well fuck---” Her eye caught the almost-finished cigarette in Toriel’s hand and almost went puppy-eyed, “ You got another one of those?”

She pointed at Toriel before redirecting to Seam, who handed her the pack and let her retrieve her own. She kicked the door closed and leaned against it, trying to get a light going in the brisk midnight air as the two waited. She finally got it after a few shakes of her lighter, and sighed.

“ I guess I should reintroduce myself, i’m Undyne,” She held out a hand for Seam, who took it with a less-harsh grip this time.

“ Seam.”

“ Pleasure meeting ‘ya, Seam.”

“ So you don’t know where Mettaton is?” Toriel asked with that worried, motherly tone.

“ Nah, we met some old friends and out of nowhere they bounced.”

“ You said they went into the back, hm?” Seam asked, not waiting for an answer, “ Maybe they went through the secret back door.”

“ This place has  _ secret doors _ ?”

“ Yes, there’s this one that comes out to the alley --- it’s mostly used for garbage and breaks,” Seam pointed down the other end, the one that lead to a brick wall that sat lower than the two buildings it was squished between, “ On the farthest end is a small door, it technically leads to the apartment parking, but some illegally park there to protect their cars. Perhaps they’re that way?”

Undyne bit down on her filter subconscious. Teeth grinding habit. “ Where is it?”

“ It’s in the small room with all the mirrors, you need to crouch a bit to get through it, but you can’t miss it, my friend. Trust me.” Seam smiled.

Undyne left her cigarette on top of the trash can and bounced back inside, trying to navigate the back room as best as she could. Surprisingly, none of the stage hands kicked her out, simply whizzed by her and sometimes almost flattened her as they moved things on small beds, but it wasn’t long before she found an open room full of mirrors and clothes, a hot pink door wide open and Papyrus moving the last of their instruments out into the cold.

“ There you fucking guys are, god!” She stomped out into the back parking lot, where Shyren and Mettaton stood by a rather dinky looking car full of black boxes.

“ I’m really sorry, darling, I thought it would only take a minute.”

Undyne got extremely close to Mettaton’s face, a look of aggression painted on as she knocked him in his shoulder with her knuckles and whispered, “ Could’ve at least  _ notified  _ me before you vanish next time, you know. Thought you left me and Toriel here.”

“ I was just helping them pack their things.” He whispered back with an unreadable look in his eyes, something that always got on Undyne’s nerves. She knew he was being coy on purpose but she couldn’t do anything, they weren’t kids anymore who could just rough each other up like it’s playground teasing. Got to act mature.

She laid off him just as Papyrus closed the trunk, skipping around to meet the group.

“ Hey, call me sometime, spaghetti boy, since we didn’t have time to talk now,” She knocked him in his shoulder the same way, but it was more playful to him than it was to Mettaton. He laughed at the gesture.

“ Of course! We really do have to hang out again while I'm in town, Undyne, I miss when you’d put me in a spider guard.” He gave a jokingly upset look to Undyne like puppy eyes, which made her laugh in return.

“ Good, you owe me a home-cooked meal then and i’ll jiu jitsu your ass like we’re kids!!” They leaned in for a hug, and Undyne could feel herself almost being lifted up by her friend’s strength alone. It’s going to be a little harder to put him in a spider guard compared to when they were fifteen, she notes.

“What about you Shyren, you staying in town?”

“ Oh no, sorry….. Since the funeral, my family has moved more South, so i’ll be leaving tonight.”

“ Well damn, keep in touch then. Come here,” She gestured, and Shyren accepted the hug with a smile.

“ I’m glad we got to meet, even just for a little bit….” She released from the hug and turned to Mettaton just the same, “ You too, TT. It was fun talking to you both…”

“ Tell your family I said hello,” Mettaton patted her shoulder, letting her get into the driver’s side door he was relaxing against. Papyrus managed to get a good hug from her at the last minute before letting her enter her car, and the three stepped away and watched her leave, Undyne giving one last wave as Shyren smiled and pulled away, out into the snowy darkness.

“ Well, what’s the plan now? Good time to go home?” Undyne checked her watch. Mettaton scratched behind his ear nervously and looked at Papyrus.

“ Well…”

“ ‘Well’?”

“ Papyrus and I wanted to chat a little longer, so if you and Toriel wish to head home, feel free to leave without me.”

Undyne shot him a look of something between exasperated and shocked. Mettaton just smiled something awkward at her while scratching behind his ear again, a sign that he’s not telling the whole story --- but maybe, Undyne doesn’t want to know all of it. Yeah, she’d rather just go home than think about that.

“ Get home safe, then, I guess.” She said, still a bit shocked. Papyrus gave her an enthusiastic wave goodbye as she re-entered the building, before shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, in the silence of the dressing room to just  _ think _ for a few seconds. A moment of peace, of not getting worked up like she always has been getting since she was fucking four. 

Leaning against the door brought her a moment to relax, putting the back of her head gently against the wood. The dim lights and distance, muffled sounds eased away the rush of the night and for a moment let her actually find a moment of enjoyment tonight.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text message.

She should go get Toriel.

Alphys was texting her.

_aaaaa undyne are you awake__  
_ _8:05 p.m._

_Im out right now whats up__  
_ _8:05 p.m._

_my bike broke and i need a ride home__  
_ _could you pwease come pick me up <:>__  
_ _8:07 p.m._

_sure thing where are you__  
_ _8:07 p.m_

_im at the bridge on the island city side!! Ty__  
_ _ 8:08 p.m._

She rubbed her eyes as she looked over the messages once more. She told her plenty of times she’d teach her to drive, but Alphys always refused outright and went everywhere on a bike with shitty gears. 

But it gave her a chance to see Alphys after an unsatisfactory night, so that was pretty cool.

When she went to retrieve Toriel, she asked if she was ready to go home. Toriel stammered a bit, having been engrossed with conversation with Seam. It seemed like everybody was making friends tonight.

“ Well, can you at least promise me you’ll get home safe?” 

Toriel looked over to Seam, who gave a small nod, “ I’d be happy to help you home, my friend.”

“ Then I do believe I'll be alright getting back, dear.

Undyne just nodded, “ Remember your promise, you have to be home in time to tuck Asriel in.”

“ Yes, I promise I will!”

“ And you have your keys?”

“ I do.”

“ Alright. Have a good night, you two.”

“ Ah, where’s Mettaton? Did you find him?”

“ Yeah, he’s hanging back too. I’ll see you at home.”

She closed the metal door, carefully exiting out of the backstage area. The crowd had thinned out sizeably, and the scraggly-faced bouncer let her out without a word.

The drive to the bridge was short and sweet, driving down the main way that passed through the center of town, glittering streetlamps speckled across it’s arching body and decorated with tinsel for the bygone holiday season. The water below it was frozen to its core, and a few snowmobilers could be seen darting across the long stretch of the lake, dancing in circles and figure-eights with just their headlights guiding them throughout the dark.

She crossed the bridge and turned slightly where it met dirt, parking herself in a small flat plane off the road a bit. Alphys was perched over the rails of the bridge, watching the snowmobilers in their wild cash, clad in a thick yellow jacket that practically hid all of her besides her small boots, red gloves, and even redder face.

“ Need company?” Undyne called jokingly, walking up to meet Alphys. Two snowmobiles passed under the bridge.

“ Ah, thanks for coming to save me,” she sounded stuffed up, probably from being in the cold for so long, “ the chain broke again and I c-couldn’t get it back in like you showed me.”

Undyne hiked the bike up with one hand and they trailed back to the car, “ You should get a new one then, if it keeps slipping it means the chain is too big.”

“ Y-yeah, I should…” They propped it in the trunk and closed the lid. Undyne motioned for Alphys to get on top of the trunk, and she obliged, following Undyne’s motions as they both dipped the car to sit for a moment. The leather jacket and thing sweater Undyne decided to wear wasn’t the best at insulating her, but she needed the moment.

“ H-how was your night? You looked d-dressed up.” Alphys asked behind the fog of her thick glasses. Undyne sighed and ran a hand through her hair, but she was smiling.

“ Eh, just went for a few drinks and a show. Papyrus is back in town.”

‘ Wha-- Really?!”

“ Yeah!! He’s done touring for a few months so I guess he’s back home.”

“ Ooh, we should hang out sometime then!” Alphys gently slapped her knees in excitement. They were all friends in college before Papyrus went off to make music, and the three of them haven’t been in the same room since.

“ Definitely,” was all Undyne could make out before sighing and laying down on her car, rubbing her face. Alphys seemed to notice her state and looked back at her.

“ Exhausted?”

“ Hungry, mostly. Haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

Alphys rubbed at her nose, “ Y’wanna go get something?”

“ What the hell is open this late.”

“ Uuuum….” Alphys scratched at her head, “ Garbage fast food chains?”

“ Hell yeah, let’s go eat like shit then!” Undyne threw her fists in the air as Alphys just giggled.


End file.
